I suppose the landlady
here will be no good?"
"Not unless you pay her.--Who's going to do that?"
"There's Estelle."
"Estelle!" Emile exploded a fierce Russian oath. "Do you want _more_
hysterics?" Vardri was tramping up and down the room with the
noiseless agility of an animal, his fingers mechanically at work at a
cigarette.
"She must have a doctor too. Isn't there an English doctor here?"
"Probably. Do you propose to pay him too?"
The dryly sarcastic voice, the practical question brought Vardri down
from the clouds to the hard facts of life. Illnesses and doctors were
expensive things. He had no money, and Emile very little.
"I'll get a _Soeur de Charite_ from one of the convents. She'll come
for nothing. Nursing is their work. I was--I mean I'm a Catholic.
She's a Catholic, too, isn't she?"
"No, she hates them. She was educated in a convent, where as far as I
can gather from her own account she acquired more learning than piety.
Under the present circumstances I can only suggest the horse-doctor."
"What's the use of--?"
"I believe he began by doctoring human beings, but like the rest of us
out here, he is a little under a cloud.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150